...where I kiss you as frog and you call me a tease....
Where oldies jump high and move as in trance,
where frogs turn to princes when given the chance.
Whisk me away to an old fashioned dance
Bounce me over a tumbleweed rock
where the lake is a mirror and frogs sit to croak
where midges do headstands and gnats will provoke
bounce me over a tumbleweed rock
Whistle me under the beaten old trees
where I kiss you as frog and you call me a tease,
where summer is all about honey and bees
whistle me under the beaten old trees.
Nibble my ears and wobble my hips
with marigold posies and honeysucked lips.
Where frogs sit in ardour and tell of their trips,
nibble my ears and wobble my hips.
Pull up my blankets and switch off the light,
play water music to spangle the night.
Let me peep dreams to offer delight.
Pull up my blankets and switch off the light
Poetry by Scharlie Meeuws
Read 548 times
Written on 2007-09-18 at 19:04
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Song of the frog princess
Whisk me away to an old fashioned danceWhere oldies jump high and move as in trance,
where frogs turn to princes when given the chance.
Whisk me away to an old fashioned dance
Bounce me over a tumbleweed rock
where the lake is a mirror and frogs sit to croak
where midges do headstands and gnats will provoke
bounce me over a tumbleweed rock
Whistle me under the beaten old trees
where I kiss you as frog and you call me a tease,
where summer is all about honey and bees
whistle me under the beaten old trees.
Nibble my ears and wobble my hips
with marigold posies and honeysucked lips.
Where frogs sit in ardour and tell of their trips,
nibble my ears and wobble my hips.
Pull up my blankets and switch off the light,
play water music to spangle the night.
Let me peep dreams to offer delight.
Pull up my blankets and switch off the light
Poetry by Scharlie Meeuws
Read 548 times
Written on 2007-09-18 at 19:04
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Rob Graber |
